Mirror of My Soul (43 page)

Marguerite stopped, looked toward her husband. Tyler stood talking to several of his male guests, but at her regard, he glanced toward her. She inclined her head, a warning of sorts, then turned her attention back to Brendan. She reached up, took hold of his head in both hands, brought him to her mouth. “You asked for a kiss.”

Brendan had expected a tender press of lips. He was wrong. She opened her mouth to his, delved deep into him, pressing her body into his, letting him feel her fragility and strength together. Oddly, it brought the platonic memory of the teenager who curled around him, keeping his fears at bay. Just as it brought the memory of the woman who had given him emotional release through a storm of sexual sensation.

Desire surged through him, tingling low in his back where her brand rested.

When she pulled back, she did so only several inches, those blue eyes a handspan from his. “Thank you for being the first boy to love me, Brendan. For loving me, period.

And for reminding me why it’s important to live.”

“You could never have failed me in any way, Mistress,” he managed, his voice

thick. “There’s nothing you owe me.”

“I reserve the right to overrule you on the failure part.” She framed his face in her hands so he could not look away, though he would never presume to disrespect her that way. “I love you, then and now,” she said softly. “I should have told you that when you were six. And you are very important to me. I missed you very much when you left. I stole your sheets off the bed so I could smell your little boy smell for at least a week after. Thank you for being that important to me.”

“Mistress,” he said, low, his voice choked with emotion. She touched him, raised to her toes and laid her lips on his again. This time it was what he’d originally expected and more. Just the pressure, perhaps not even sexual in nature, just loving. Giving.

Intimate in the ways she’d not allowed herself before. When she finally drew back, he pressed his cheek to her temple and they danced on while the fairy lights and laughter danced around them.

“Brendan,” she said at last, quietly. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything my Mistress desires.”

“Can you go talk to the DJ for me?”

When the song ended, under a wealth of fascinated eyes, Marguerite turned and

walked across the grass in her bare feet toward her groom, who left his friends to meet her halfway. She put her hands into his just as the DJ announced, “A special request, from the bride to the groom.”

“Was that necessary?”

She smiled, remembering a different time when he’d asked the same question. A

heartbeat later, he remembered as well and cocked his head, giving her a rueful smile.

“And the same boy. Are you going to force me to kill this kid before he gets the chance to experience puberty?”

218

Mirror of My Soul

“Brendan is no younger proportionately to me than I am to you, old man.” She

moved into his arms, stroked his nape, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Keep it up.” He pursed his lips, smoothly moving her into a turn and then into an elegant dip that had her lips curving. He kept her there, traced a finger up her neck, holding her easily with one arm, letting her feel that strength that he could use for or against her. “We’ll leave this party and I’ll spend all night showing you just how old and doddering I am. This is nice, by the way.” His expression got tender as she realized he was also listening to the words, acknowledging the careful choice she’d made.

The DJ had begun the soulful rendition of “Because You Loved Me”, by Jo Dee

Messina. As the female vocalist softly noted how she had survived the darkness of the world only because of one person’s love, Tyler’s heart was in his eyes. He turned her in the steps of a waltz, cradling her body, letting her lean into him. She recognized his attempts to give her some rest, his protective nature asserting itself.

“I suppose I’ll have to suffer that kiss,” he said at last. “Considering that the ladies I’ve had the pleasure to call my obedient submissives have been groping, fondling, kissing with tongue and otherwise doing everything they can to convince themselves I’m off the market.”

She’d let her hair down after the ceremony. Now he gathered it up and held it to one side to place his lips on her neck, keeping them there while they were dancing.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice all of it.”

“I was hoping you might. God, women are ten times more aggressive than men. If you want to instigate a catfight, I’d be happy to make sure the sprinklers turn on so it can become a mud wrestling contest. Clothes optional.”

“Oh. I like that.” It took him a startled moment to realize she wasn’t talking about his suggestion, had ignored it with her endearing haughtiness. He followed her gaze to where Brendan had taken a seat next to Chloe. She was already engaged in

conversation with him, looking beautiful with her short bob curling wildly around her face, despite the fading bruises that makeup couldn’t quite hide and the cane next to the chair to support her when her leg tired.

“But I thought he was…”

“He’s bi. And he’s just looking for someone who speaks to his heart. He’s very eclectic.”

“And what about a Mistress?”

“He has one.” She slanted him a glance up from beneath her lashes, teasing him.

“Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Chloe didn’t have the makings of a Mistress when he has need of it. It’s very empowering, the feeling of a man’s submission to you.

Addictive even.”

“Hmmm.” He drew her more firmly to him, loving this new side of her that had

been emerging over the past several weeks. “You might just make me consider crossing over.”

219

Joey W. Hill

She locked her hands around his neck, her tone softening with affection. “I’m sure I won’t live long enough to see that. You’re a Master, through and through.”

“Your Master. Yours only, tonight’s liberties notwithstanding.” His eyes sparkled, but the set of his mouth was serious, firm, making her want to bite at his lips and draw out his passion toward her. He noticed, because his grip tightened, putting the firm pressure of him against her loins. A promise of what he would give her later.

“Good to know,” she murmured, running a finger just under the lobe of his ear, playing in his hair. She looked over, saw Chloe had captured Brendan’s hand and was reading his palm. He studied the crown of her head, a bemused look on his face, that pleasant bewilderment that most people experienced when first exposed to Chloe’s joyous nature. “Brendan just wants someone to take care of, someone whose heart answers his. Someone who will be loving and loyal, who will ease the little boy deep inside who’s afraid he’ll wake up and find everything he loves is taken away. For some men I think taking care of the woman they love is what matters most, whether they do it as a Master or as a submissive.” Her gaze shifted briefly to Mac who was dancing with his wife now, his powerful arms holding her close to him. “And Brendan can teach Chloe how to lead the dance. It’s not in her blood, but if they fall in love and she enjoys it, even just as role playing, it will be enough. It wouldn’t be enough for every submissive, but it will be for him. He’ll care for her as a cherished Mistress, even if she never takes the title.”

“Because he has the Mistress of his heart already.” Tyler pressed his hand low on the small of her back, making desire curl low in her stomach. “Like the knight who chooses his queen or another woman out of his reach as the lady who inspires him. She motivates him to be who he should be in this life, even when he gives his heart to a wife or lover.” Before she could get flustered, as if he anticipated her discomfort, he changed gears. “Somehow, however, I don’t think it will be difficult to talk Chloe into tying him up and having her way with him.”

At the moment she slanted a teasing glance up at him, getting a bit lost in the sexy mischief evident in his amber eyes, a flashbulb popped. Marguerite saw Violet sitting back down with her camera. She and Mac had returned to their table and now Mac leaned back in his chair at the round table. He held on to the back slat of Josh’s chair while Violet sat to his left. She was carrying on an animated discussion with Josh’s wife Lauren and two others Marguerite didn’t recognize.

Tyler followed her gaze and chuckled. “Oh, God save us, there’s a couple you need to meet. Justin Herne and his wife, Sarah. A different Sarah from ours. Justin runs a women’s erotica shop. Sarah is a police chief.”

“I’m sure that was an interesting love story.” She took in the dynamics at that table, two Mistresses with submissive males, though one always applied that term to Mac Nighthorse with some degree of astonishment. A man who ran a sex shop, who had a police chief as a wife. Then there was the potential of Chloe and Brendan nearby, obviously intrigued with each other. But how much less remarkable was her situation?

A Mistress dancing with her new husband, also a Dominant.

220

Mirror of My Soul

“It really can’t be predicted, can it? Relationships are more fluid than we think they are.”

He picked up on her thought, brought her closer so he could brush his lips along her cheek. “There’s no other option when you can’t imagine being without someone.”

She leaned further into him, feeling the music and the night surrounding them, the love of friends.

As the song came to a conclusion, she stepped back, but retained his hands. “I have a gift for you.”

Tyler lifted a brow. “Angel, you never have to give me a gift again. You’ve given me what I want for every birthday and Christmas for the rest of my life.”

Her blue eyes softened, her mouth trembling a little. He knew she was on emotional overload today, gripping every moment with both hands like that teddy bear that now held a place of honor on their bed. She wasn’t afraid to savor it now and it made him want to kiss her again. And again.

But before he could act on it, she looked toward Josh. As if he was waiting for her signal, he reached over, tapped Justin Herne’s arm. As Justin rose, Josh leaned over to Lauren, dressed in a strapless sequined gown, to kiss her bare shoulder. Reaching up, she cradled his face to press her own lips to his jaw.

“You are an extremely confident man,” Marguerite observed, watching Justin

Herne move toward them with the easy elegance of a wild creature. Looking

deceptively civilized in black tie, he wore his dark brown hair pulled into a sleek tail at the nape, emphasizing the chiseled planes of his face, the dark eyes, the dangerously sensual set of his mouth.

“Admit it. You think I’m the handsomest man here.”

She suppressed a chuckle, shot him an amused glance. “Those are wedding day

blinders. Keep men like this around and see what happens.”

Justin arrived before them then, so Tyler swallowed his threatening retort. The man withdrew a slim box from inside his jacket. “Per your specifications, Mrs. Winterman.”

The look on her face as the first of their friends called her by the title was worth everything to Tyler. Her wonder and delight was such that she didn’t speak for a moment. Justin waited, a slight smile on his lips as if he knew the impact the words had had on her.

Tyler put his hand to the small of her back, touched her with simple intimacy. And not just to reassure her. Watching the close attention of the women clustered around the dance floor, he knew she was right. He really did have to cultivate some less distracting male friends.

“I’m sorry…” She cleared her throat. “I asked Josh—”

“Josh’s contact for the jewelry maker was me. He’s one of my specialty suppliers, an artist as great as Josh, only in the arena of gems and precious metals. I hope you like it.”

Justin turned, extended the slender box to Tyler. “Your bride had this ordered.”

221

Joey W. Hill

She reached out and covered Tyler’s hand as he took it. Justin discreetly withdrew a couple steps so he was not blocking the view of their attentive audience. Tyler and Marguerite’s pose had caught the attention of the other dancers, so the floor had cleared.

Tyler knew she’d never been shy under scrutiny. Even as a Mistress, she knew what was important was what was going on between her and the subject of her restraint. So he suspected the charming flush rising in her cheeks was for what she was about to give him.

“I willingly agreed to be your wife.” A smile touched her mouth. “After your

incessant whining.” Laughter flitted through the crowd. Her eyes locked with his, all teasing melting away. “We took vows in the traditional way, but I also pledge myself to you in all the ways we know between us. And because of that, I want to give you this.”

The conversation even at the outlying tables had stilled. Though she didn’t state it blatantly, he supposed for the sake of the vanilla friends and family present, all understood that what was going on was important. He was riveted himself, caught by the intensity of those blue eyes and the significance of what she was saying to him.

Words she’d obviously taken great time to think about and choose.

“When a child is brought into the world with loving parents, that child learns to smile, laugh, love, be stubborn. She learns to appreciate the reasons worth living. In that regard, you’ve been my parent over the past several months. I wasn’t alive until I met you. You brought me into this world, delivered me here and helped me see that. You bound me to you, made me
want
to be bound to you. A parent is supposed to unconditionally love, protect against harm, care for the child, hold and shelter her.

Lovers help each other discover passion and longing, understand that same type of love can be given without the binding of blood. You’ve been all those things to me.”

She bowed her head. “I am a Mistress to others; you are the Master of me. Of my heart, mind and soul.”

Tyler, too overcome to speak right away, followed the urging of her fingers and pulled the ribbon, opened the box. The choker was as he had described it to her that day by the tennis courts. A double helix of seed pearls, every third or fourth double row interrupted by a silver icicle. The main pendant was the frame of an angel’s head and wings, the wings serrated delicately like the icicles, which would give tiny pricks to sensitive skin when they touched it with her movement.